Music: The Kinks “This time tomorrow”
Meal: Whatever is left in my fridge
Today my Pacific Heights apartment is a war zone, filled with piles of power cords, sensible shoes, non-sensible shoes, atlases, journals and multi flavored packs of beef jerky. Tomorrow I will make all the piles fit tidily in my car to embark across the country, the first step in my adventurous writing project. Although I expect things to change, currently the atlas is highlighted to take me south from San Francisco to LA-through Texas and Louisiana, and up east through Atlanta, Carolinas to New York City. Right in time for Fashion Week. Although the original plan wasn’t to do this thing solo….now it is. I am a strong advocate of pushing ourselves outside the comfort zone but trepidation enters as I realize a lot of the world thinks I am mad.
“A southern “exploration” road trip solo? Are you out of your mind? You’re going to wind up in a border town meth lab,” one of my friends commented.
“You do know you are traveling south during the hottest time of year, right? Doesn’t your hair get all frizzy in humidity? What if no one wants to talk to you with bad hair?” was another concern.
“Why don’t you just go up to Alaska, visit your Uncle Kurt, learn to shoot a gun and ride a Harley like most normal girls,” my father asked. Right. Although gun shooting may come in handy when I end up near those meth labs.
“What about taking the bus,” my mother asked. She was nervous that the timing belt in the 11 year old car would fail. Little did she know I’d rather risk a broken down car than travel via Greyhound with the bus degenerates. Last time I took the bus the other passengers used the back row as their personal latrine.
But meth labs, humidity, and timing belts couldn’t stop me. It was time to hit the road.